A Birthday Carol
by NCCJFAN
Summary: What if three ghosts haunt Jordan on the night of her birthday...and make her change her ways? Post Embraceable You. Apologies to Charles Dickens. No angst...just laughs. Or at least smirks.
1. The Ghost of Devan McGuire

**Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan. Tailwind Productions and Tim Kring own them all. **

**Each year that I taught middle school (now more years ago than I want to remember), I would read the Charles Dickens short story _A Christmas Carol_ to my kids in the hope that they would realize how thankful they should be to have what they did have and not to get so caught up in trying to gain material goods that they forgot about the value of the eternal. Did it work? Not then. But later, I had some of those kids come back to me and tell me how my reading of that short story was one of their Christmas highlights…and they did remember the lesson it taught. Those words did my teacher's heart good. And brought some tears to my eyes. Lessons like that are so much important than remembering how to diagram compound-complex sentences or recalling the three laws of thermodynamics. **

**So….we've tried angst….and now I'm trying humor to get over Embraceable You. Like JORDY, that episode is my Pandora's Box. Yeah, it's gonna take me a while to get over it.**

**So here's my Crossing Jordan version of _A Christmas Carol_…only it's not Christmas, but a day after Jordan refused Woody's friendship ring. **

**And by the way, I don't own _A Christmas Carol_, either. Darn. All the good plots are taken…..

* * *

**

**Chapter One**

**The Ghost of Devan McGuire**

It had been a long day. It was going to be an even longer evening. And the year ahead seemed to stretch out for eternity.

Jordan drove home…back to her Pearle Street apartment in a deep funk….she was depressed, really. Feeling more cynical than usual. For a couple of reasons. First of all today was her birthday. Not a day she greeted with great enthusiasm any longer. After all, there were only so many years you could put candles on your cake with great enthusiasm. Now she only heard the tick-tock of her biological clock beginning to slow down.

The second reason she was feeling the blues was Woody's fault. Or at least she was trying her best to blame him. He had tried to give her a ring. No, not an engagement ring…a friendship ring. But it held diamonds, either way you looked at it. And diamonds meant commitment.

And _commitment_ was something she couldn't commit to. Commitment meant loving someone…and loving someone meant you had to risk being hurt by that person. And that was a risk that until lately, she wasn't willing to take.

She loved him. She admitted that. At least to herself. And she tried to tell him that tonight….but he wouldn't let her. When he had first given her the ring, she refused it flat-out. Then….later as the day wore on and she talked with Joey, who told her what it was like being in love with your best friend, she changed her mind. WhenWoody came to her office for the last time that day, he told her he was through chasing her….he gave up. His ego couldn't take it anymore. Then walked out before she could tell him that she did love him and wanted to wear the ring, please?

So Jordan was trying her dead-level best to pin the second reason for her depressed state of mind on Woodrow Wilson Hoyt. Damn him. He played the friend card. "Maybe we can still be friends," he had said. That was _her_ line thank-you-very-much.

Only now….she had taught him too well how to play the game. Somewhere along the way, the tables had turned on her…now that she was willing and ready to say those three words she never thought she would utter (and at least _mean_ them) and he had given up.

Wearily Jordan rode the elevator up to her third floor apartment and let herself in. She was too tired to go any further. Tossing her keys and pocketbook onto the coffee table, she made it only as far as the couch. She dropped down on the cushions and before the days events could spin around in her head again, she fell fast asleep……

Only to be waken by a perky, cheerleader-y voice calling her name…."Jordan….Jordan…"

"No…it can't be….you died in an airplane crash months ago…you're an official crispy critter even if we didn't find anything left of you to bury.."

"'Fraid so, Jordan…I'm ba-a-a-a-a-ck." The voice drawled out the last word like the scene from Poltergeist.

"Oh, God…it's you."

And indeed it was. The perky, blonde ME had returned…although not in human form. There was definitely less of Devan than there had been before…even less of her shapely ass. "Yep, it's me alright," she said, perching herself on the arm of the chair across from Jordan.

"What did I do that was so awful to deserve this?" Jordan said, sitting up and holding her head. "I couldn't stand you when you were alive .. . so you come back to haunt me when you're dead?"

"Not haunt. Help."

"How could you possibly help me?" Jordan asked, standing and going over to ghost of Devan. "There's not a lot of you left to help anyone."

"I know what happened tonight….how you turned Woody down and then how he cut you off."

"And I bet you loved it.

Devan tilted her head and looked at Jordan closely. "No…actually I thought you were kind of dumb not to take the ring and run the first time it was offered. I mean you love him…he loves you, or at least he tries to when you let him. And it's a great ring. Woody has excellent taste in jewelry even if I question his taste in women."

Jordan snorted and looked through Devan. Devan ignored her. "So I'm here to help you out, Jordan. Show you the way to true love and happiness…if you're brave enough to take the path."

"If I'm _brave_ enough?"

"Tonight, you'll be visited by three ghosts…."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute. This has been done before…Bill Murray, Behind the Music … .even the Muppets have done this _Christmas Carol _gig. And besides….it's not even Christmas…you are so blonde."

"You will be visited by three ghosts," Devan continued in a firmer voice. "And it's up to you if you receive their messages and change your life."

"Change my life? But I was just about to tell Woody I loved him when he jumped the boat and ran from _me_."

"And if you admitted your true feelings earlier, you'd be curled up in your apartment with him, with a gorgeous diamond on your finger and not sitting here chatting to a ghost…."

Jordan sat back down on the couch. "And I have no choice in the matter?"

"None."

"And this will all be done by tomorrow morning, if I remember the Dickens' story correctly.."

"Yeah."

"Good. I have early morning shift tomorrow."

"Then expect the first ghost at midnight…" Devan began to float away through Jordan's window.

"Wait a minute…..Dev…." she called out.

Devan turned back and looked at Jordan. "What?"

"In the other stories, these were Christmas ghosts…what are they in mine?"

"Birthday Spirits….."


	2. The Ghost of Birthdays Past

**Chapter Two**

**The Ghost of Birthdays Past**

Jordan nervously paced the floor of her apartment. She had worked with dead people a long time….one part of her figured that dealing with ghosts would be no different. After all, ghosts were just another form of…well, dead people, right?

Maybe….bodies don't talk. Ghosts do.

And she wasn't sure she was going to like the messages she was given. Finally her clock chimed midnight and no ghost appeared. For a moment she held her breath as her eyes darted around her apartment. Nothing. No ghosts….not even a person covered with a sheet. No smoke. No mirrors. She sighed and decided to go to bed when there was a knock at the door.

Ghosts…using the door? That didn't seem so ghostly…Apprehensively, she began to undo the locks on her door and swung it open. There…in his robe and slippers was Dr. Stiles.

"Dr. Stiles?" Jordan asked, still uncertain at what her eyes were telling her. "But…you're not dead… at least I don't think so….you haven't been in the morgue anyway."

Impatiently, Dr. Stiles tapped his foot. "May I come in, Jordan? I normally don't make house calls…"

"But I don't understand….Devan said I would be visited by three ghosts…"

"Oh she did? She always did have a flare for the dramatic. Maybe you'd see people with ghost-like qualities, but not necessarily ghosts."

Jordan signed with relief. "So then, you're really not…"

"Dead? No. But I have dealt with your past so much that Devan thought it appropriate that I be the Ghost of Chri….I mean, Birthdays Past."

Jordan nodded. That was true. Dr. Stiles knew more about her past and how it affected her than anyone. "So Dev said you'd have some kind of message for me?"

"Lessons are better caught than taught. Hold on to my robe and let's take a trip to the past."

"How far past?"

"Well, we're going to skip the mother-part. For one thing, it may send you careening off the deep end again and God know where you'll end up. And I don't think Woody would follow you and bring you home this time. And another thing, the writers of Crossing Jordan have nearly beat that horse to death. We bring that up and NCCJFAN may lose readers right here and you know how she lives for reviews and this is _her_ story….Plus the readers have sort of been promised a resolution to the crime in episode 100, which comes up in season six…so, we're going to lay low on that topic."

"So we've been renewed for season six?"

"Looks that way."

"And Jerry signed again to play Woody?"

"Indeed."

"Well…maybe we'll at least get a kiss in this season…."

"If you two don't, the Coffeeroom Boards are going to disintegrate into total chaos and anarchy. Did you read the all posts there after Embraceable You? Hang onto my robe, Jordan."

Jordan grabbed Dr. Stile's robe by the collar and felt herself being lifted up and out the window…….

* * *

"Where are we?" she shouted as she could see all of Boston beneath her feet.

"Oh, we're still in Massachusetts. Do you remember you're sixteenth birthday?"

Jordan nodded, a smile lighting up her face. "Yeah…Dad got me a car…" And instantly, Jordan was whisked down into the front yard of her old house….watching much younger Max surprise a sixteen year-old Jordan with a Mustang. The younger version of herself hugged her father and murmured something about the best birthday ever.

The older Jordan found herself with tears in her eyes. "What's wrong?" asked Dr. Stiles.

"It's just…I knew times were hard with just one parent's salary…and a cop's salary at that. He must have sacrificed all kinds of sick pay and worked all kinds of over time to buy me that car."

"And you loved it."

"I loved the car and him…I kept the car until I went to med school and needed a more dependable one…."

"Did you love the car so much or what it represented….a father's sacrifice for his daughter?"

Jordan didn't have to think about this one. "What it meant…that he loved me enough to give up things he needed in order to make me happy. He didn't have to do it. He did it because he loved me and wanted to see me be on cloud nine a while."

Dr. Stiles looked at her closely. "You need to remember that, Jordan. People do love you and are willing to sacrifice things and themselves in order to see you happy. You have got to learn to accept it as graciously as sixteen year-old Jordan did."

* * *

"Are we through yet?" Jordan asked as they were suddenly whisked up into the air again, away from the younger versions of herself and her father.

"No…we've got one more stop to make before my job is done and the Ghost of Chris…Birthdays Present takes over. Hold on tight to my robe."

They flew over the town of Boston until they came to the tony Beacon Hill section…making their way through the posh neighborhoods until they came down in the front of a vaguely familiar house. "Grandma's…..I've been summoned again, so it seems…." Jordan said, warily making her way through the bushes to a window and peeked in. "What is she up to?"

"Don't you remember, Jordan…each year on your birthday…what she would do?"

Jordan lowered her head. "Yeah…each year she'd invite me up for birthday cake and tea…" her voice trailed off. Her grandmother was putting the finishing touches on a cake and setting out her tea cups….that would never be used.

"And every year you'd refuse. Why?"

"I never knew her that well…and she tried to take me away from Dad after Mom died."

"And didn't your dad and your grandmother tell you they had forgiven each other…it was water under the bridge…each of them thought they were doing what was best for you?"

Jordan nodded.

"So why couldn't you accept that…and her invitations?"

"I thought I'd be betraying my father…"

"And all I see is two people who loved you very much….and wanted what was best for you. In front of you there is a woman who wanted to know her granddaughter…her last living link with her daughter….better. And she was rebuffed every time without a good reason."

Jordan swallowed hard. She had never thought of it that way. "I wish….I wish I would have accepted."

"Did you get an invitation this year?"

"Yeah…but I haven't answered it yet."

Dr. Stiles regarded her for a moment. "It's not too late….maybe you can call her when you get home…You know, Jordan, for a woman that seems to have a hard time with being loved and loving others, you seem to have been surrounded by it from an early age."

Jordan nodded and clutched onto Dr. Stiles' robe one more time. She was sure they needed to be heading back to her apartment…the next spirit should be arriving at any minute.


	3. The Ghost of Birthdays Present

**Chapter Three**

**The Ghost of Birthdays Present**

Jordan moaned and held put her hand to her head to help support it as she tried to sit up from her prone position on the couch. "God….and I haven't even had anything to drink tonight….I swear, I'll never eat cheap Mexican food for lunch again….these dreams are kickin'.." she murmured to herself as she sat up. "Oh…my head...Dr. Stiles….Ghost of Birthdays Past…" she chuckled to herself as she got up from the couch and ran right into…Nigel.

"Nigel?" she asked. At least she thought it was Nigel…it was hard to tell. He wore a huge coat that nearly seemed to swallow him whole.

"Aep…not Nigel tonight. The Ghost of …"

"Let me guess. The Ghost of Birthdays Present?"

"Or the Ghost of Birthday Presents, if you want to get creative, love."

Jordan crossed her arms. The last thing she felt like doing tonight was being creative…at least with Nigel. "So….Devan said you'd have a message for me?"

"Ah…Dr. McGuire…yes. I do have a message for you."

"Care to enlighten me?"

"Not here, love. Not here. Pick one," he said opening his huge coat up so she could see inside. On the inside were numerous birthday presents….all wrapped up with bows and ribbons.

"Does it matter which one?"

"That choice is totally up to you, love."

Jordan surveyed the packages with interest. She finally picked one wrapped up in pink paper….her favorite color … and tied up with a lavender bow. "That one," she said , pointing to the medium-sized present.

"What an interesting choice. Well, go ahead…unwrap it." He reached in his coat and handed it to Jordan.

Slowly, Jordan peeled the paper off the box and lifted the lid…and found herself back at the morgue. "This is a birthday present?" she asked. "This is work. This is my everyday life…hell, this is my everyday-all-the-time life."

"And it's the little moments during normal days that you can learn some of the biggest lessons in life. Just pay attention."

"But Nigel…"

"I told you I'm not Nigel…I'm the Ghost of Birthdays Present. Now quit talking and pay attention. Just remember, no one can see you or hear you…"

She watched herself come into her office. "That's me…." She whispered to Nigel.

"Just remember…this is like watching Crossing Jordan on TV. You can shout and scream…swear, even, and no one can hear you. So it's better just to sit quietly and take whatever NCCJFAN is dishing out. She's really pissed at you and Woody for Embraceable You."

"Doesn't she realize it's not us….it's the _writers…._"

"She knows…somewhere deep in her heart she knows…just pay attention now…okay?"

Jordan quietly watched herself come into her office…dressed in her scrubs and her hair up in a messy bun. "Jordan?" came a soft voice from her door.

"Yeah, Garret?"

"Could you help me with something?"

"Sure."

"Lily's off today…and I've got to make a notification to the family of a twelve year-old girl. I can't do it. Every time I try, I think about Abby, and I just can't…not without losing it."

She took the file that Garret handed her and looked through it. "I'll take care of it, Gar…go ahead and go to lunch or something."

From the sidelines, the real Jordan watched the vision of herself pick up the phone and dial the number. "Mrs. Thompson? Mrs. Thompson, this is Jordan Cavanaugh. I'm a medical examiner with the state of Massachusetts. I'm sorry….I have some bad news…." Jordan saw herself give Mrs. Thompson the notification with compassion…patiently answering all the woman's questions and then promising to be at the morgue in the morning when she came into positively identify her daughter. When she finally hung up the phone, Nigel noticed that the vision of Jordan was crying.

"Tears….you'd think by now you'd be used to doing this sort of thing, love."

"The day you get used to giving notifications about the death of a loved one to their family…without it affecting you in some way….that's the day you need to turn in your badge."

"Oh...really?"

"Really."

"So Jordan Cavanaugh is not as emotionally unfeeling as some people think?"

She hung her head. "No…not at all…"

"Then why don't you show it more? Let people know you're vulnerable just like them?"

"Because that's when you can get hurt. And I've been hurt enough."

"No doubt about that…but you don't open yourself up to just hurt. You also open yourself up to love, too."

"I know." She could feel the tears on her own face now.

"More tears? Why?"

"Because I know why I'm crying," she said gesturing to the other Jordan behind the desk.

"Then why?"

"She's wondering….if one day….she'll ever be a mother….it's my birthday…I'm getting older…and I don't have anyone to call my own."

"Maybe….if you'd just open yourself up…take a risk…that leap of faith….it could happen for you."

"Or I could land on my ass…"

"Or live mostly happily ever after…." Nigel watched the emotions chase each other across Jordan's face. After a minute, he opened his coat again. "Another present…pick another present."

"I don't want to…birthdays are supposed to be happy. I'm worse off now than ever. Can I just go back to my apartment and be depressed by myself….have a hot shower, a shot of tequila, and go to bed?"

"No…not yet. Pick a present." He urged her towards his coat.

Sighing, but figuring that the sooner she chose a present and got it over with, the sooner she could go to bed. "Okay…I'll pick that one." She reached for a smaller box wrapped in green paper.

"Good choice. Now unwrap it and see what you've got."

* * *

This time she found herself in an unfamiliar nursery….with only vaguely familiar people. "Where am I?" she whispered to the Ghost of Birthdays Present.

"Give it just a minute…"

"I'm so glad Dr. Cavanaugh talked Joey into signing those papers so we can keep the baby," the woman said, gently rocking her daughter.

"Yeah…it's hard to imagine life without the baby now," her husband replied, bringing in a bottle.

"I don't think I want to…we waited so long to have a child…and now that we do…It just all seems like a dream…I am so thankful."

The man nodded as he handed his wife the bottle to feed the baby with. "Me, too. Dr. Cavanaugh didn't have to talk to him…she could have stayed out of it…but Joey trusted her. I hope she is as happy as we are."

Jordan hung her head.

"What's wrong, love?" Nigel asked. "You should be proud…you've made this couple very ecstatic….they've wanted a child for years. Tried all kinds of fertility treatments…been on all the adoption lists. And when you talked Joey into signing over his parental rights….you made their dream come true. And gave the baby an excellent home. She will always be loved and will never want for anything. You did good, Jordan."

"I'm glad they're happy. It just seems that I can make others happy…but not myself."

"The capacity to bring happiness to others is a great gift indeed. And I think you know what would make you happy…you just lack the courage to follow through with it."

She sighed and nodded, turning back to Nigel. "I guess it's time to go back to my apartment?"

"No…not yet. You have time for one more present and this is one I must pick for you." Nigel reached in his coat and pulled out a small, shabbily wrapped box and placed it in Jordan's hand. It was just about the size of…

"No…I don't want to open this one. I'm afraid this one will hurt most of all…"

The Ghost of Christmas Present looked at her with sympathy in his big, brown eyes. "It probably will, but you need to see it. You need to be aware of how much your actions affect others…but remember, Jordan. You know what will make you happy. It's like Devan said….are you brave enough to do it? Now unwrap the package."

"I really don't want to… I don't think that is necessary…I understand now…"

"Unwrap the package, Jordan," Nigel said, his voice taking on a firm, authoritarian tone.

She swallowed hard and slowly untied the bow….and found herself in Woody's apartment…in his bedroom. "No…." she whispered, turning to Nigel. "I've hurt him…and I can't look at him."

Nigel took her by the elbow and turned her to face the detective. "No… you need to…you must."

Jordan watched as Woody pulled off his tie, and tossed it, his service revolver, and badge on a chair. Then he sat down on the side of his bed and pulled the ring box out of his pants pocket. He slowly opened the lid and looked at the diamonds twinkling at him in the dim light of the bedroom. She saw one tear slide down his cheek and then he slammed the lid of the box down and threw it against the wall. "Damn her," he said through clenched teeth. "Damn her, damn her, damn her. Friends…I can't be her friend any longer…it just hurts too bad. She hurts too bad." Jordan watched as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I need to get away…and stay away," she heard him mutter.

And observed with increasing horror as he pulled out a suitcase and began to throw some things in it. "They told me at Sunny D to call them if I ever got ready to make a move. Then I thought I'd never leave Boston…because she was here. And I never could picture me leaving her. Ha! A lot of good that thinking did me…"

"No, Nigel…he can't…he can't leave me…" She tried to turn back to Nigel and bury her head in his shoulder.

"No love…you need to see what happens…how your actions affect others …the rest of their lives and the rest of yours." He pushed her back to face Woody one more time.

She saw him pick up his phone and dial a number… heard him talk with someone in California….and set up an interview. Then he called an airline …he was leaving at midnight. She would never even get a chance to say goodbye…

"Woody, stop. Please. I tried to talk to you in my office, but you wouldn't listen…please, hear me out…"

"Jordan, he can't hear you," Nigel said, gently putting his arm around her. "These are just visions of things that are going on…they can't see you, hear you, or feel you."

Jordan took a deep breath. "Then…if these are just visions, does that mean I could have a chance to change them?"

Nigel shook his head. "I don't know. That's not my department. That's the Ghost…"

"of Birthdays Future," she finished. "Then take me back to my apartment. I'm ready to get on with the program….I have some questions for that spirit….but I'm not sure I'm going to like the answers."


	4. The Ghost of Birthdays Future

**Chapter Four**

**The Ghost of Birthdays Future**

With a wave of Nigel's hand, Jordan found herself back in her apartment. Her empty apartment. Not a ghost or semi-ghostly person in sight. She sighed in frustration. She had some serious questions she needed to ask this next specter, although she feared him and his answers more than she had any other of the ghosts. Dejectedly, she made her way towards her bedroom… to the shower….when the lights in her apartment began to flicker on and off. _Yes! _She thought. _The Ghost of Birthdays Future is here…._

Well…maybe.

"Say, Jordan…you really ought to have your apartment manager check your wiring. I think you have a short in there…did you know you can't run your microwave and your coffeepot at the same time?" asked a voice coming from her kitchen.

"Peter?" she asked incredulously. If there was someone other than Devan who could possibly qualify for a real ghost, it was Peter. "Where have you been, man? It was like one day you were at the morgue and then BAM! You were gone the next day. And no one said a word. Not the writers…not Tim…not Allan…not the directors….We haven't had a clue. I thought something bad had seriously happened…"

"Nah…just thought a sudden vacation to Hawaii would be a good idea… what with that short third season…"

Jordan looked at him for a beat. "Series didn't make it, did it?"

Peter shook his head. "Nope….so this is the gig I got in the mean time…the Ghost of Birthdays Future."

Jordan eyed him up and down. "Well, you did get a good tan out of it, at least. But where's the grim reaper costume? I thought all ghosts of the future wore those…"

"Nope. Not me. Too cumbersome…and we need to move fast if I'm going to get you back here early enough for you to catch a few hours of sleep before your early shift tomorrow, I remember how mad Macy used to get when we were late…"

"Some things never change, Pete. So what's your message from Devan?"

Peter looked at her with those big, brown eyes…and Jordan winced just a little. She read sympathy….a feeling she wasn't comfortable with. "Come with me, Jordan…and I'll show you…"

"Can't you just answer some of my questions about what's going to happen to me…and we'll let it go at that?"

"No, Jordan. You need to see…for yourself….what could happen in your future."

Jordan began to take a few steps backwards. "I….I…don't think I want to know….sometimes mystery is good…you know…creates tension…"

Peter shook his head again. "No…" He reached for her hand. "Hang onto me…don't let go. We've got to move really fast if we're to go all the way to the future and back to the present tonight." He pulled her towards the window and Jordan soon felt herself hurdling headfirst into the night, feeling like she was plunging off a cliff. She soon got over that feeling when they landed back in the morgue.

_Gee…my past, present, and future are wrapped up in this place,_ she thought as she surveyed her surroundings. Suddenly, she was taken aback with the vision of an older version of herself rounding the corner….and entering Macy's old office. "I'm chief ME now?" she asked Peter, not believing it. "When did I get to be so responsible?"

"Time has a way of maturing folks," Peter said, watching from behind Jordan. "Now pay attention…" Soon an older version of Nigel and Bug came to her door.

"It's nearly quitting time," Nigel said. "Feel up to going to the Beef and Brew for a drink and some late supper?"

"I can't….I've got two reports to finish and then I need to talk with the new girl about her paperwork….she's three months behind."

Bug chuckled. "The new ME's name is Leslie. You hired her a year ago…can't you remember her name?"

The older Jordan shook her head. "Sometimes I can't remember _my_ name, Bug."

"And you're one to talk about paperwork…Leslie reminds me a lot of you at that age," Nigel rejoined.

Jordan saw herself grimace. "I was never that late with reports….and I never got myself into that much trouble…and I never flirted shamelessly with detectives."

Bug and Nigel both grinned. "Yeah, right…." Nigel said. "Well, we're going to head out….if you can, join us, okay? All you do is work, Jordan. And all work and no play makes for a very dull girl."

The older Jordan watched them leave…. "So I'm dull now?" she muttered. "It really doesn't matter…."

Jordan observed herself work relentless for another hour and then grab her coat and pocketbook. In another whirl of motion, she, Peter, and the older version of Jordan found themselves in a townhouse. "Where are we at now?" Jordan asked Peter.

"Your home."

"I don't live on Pearle Street anymore?"

"Nope…you traded up when you became chief ME."

"Sweet!"

"Not so sweet. Take a look around, Jordan."

Jordan watched the older version of herself fix a sandwich for supper and sit down in front of the TV to watch the news….a large, yellow cat came ambling out from a bedroom and sat beside her. Absent-mindedly, that Jordan petted the feline and made room for it in her lap. In a few minutes, both owner and cat were sound asleep….the TV blaring.

And no one else in sight.

The real Jordan went from room to room, looking for someone….surely she wasn't alone? "Peter," she finally asked, "where is everybody?"

"Everybody?"

"Yeah…"

Jordan watched Peter's eyes grow sad again. "There isn't anyone else, Jordan. Just you and the cat."

"You mean I'm alone now? At this point in my life, I'm alone? Surely, I've been married…and maybe divorced or something now….I have kids…tell me I at least had children…"

"Take another look. Do you see any pictures of anyone?"

Jordan didn't. Except for a few art prints here and there, the walls and surfaces were devoid of any personal objects. "I'm all by myself…my worse fears do come true….I never find anyone…I never have a family…I end up all alone…"

Peter caught the catch in her voice. "You know, Jordan….it's like Nigel said…these are just visions of what may occur…"

"So this may not happen to me?"

"Life is all about the choices you make….and their consequences…" Peter took her hand again. "Hang on…we've got a couple of more places to go." Jordan felt herself once again being hurdled ahead in time…coming to a stop in front of an unfamiliar house…It was a two-story white house with shutters. Fenced in backyard complete with swing set.

"Where are we?" she asked, noticing the lights in the window and hearing the excited voices of children coming from inside.

"Your home…or what might be your home."

"Can we go in?"

"Sure…" Peter took her hand and they went inside. Jordan watched as three chestnut-haired children were running wild in the family room.

"Hurry and get the candles on the birthday cake before Mom comes downstairs. We want to surprise her…" called out the oldest-looking child. It was a girl and reminded Jordan so much of herself at the age of ten she nearly had to smile.

"I am hurrying," said a small, chubby boy who looked to be no older than five.

"Don't think you can boss us just because you're the oldest, Emily," said another male child that appeared to be between eight and nine. "Besides, we can't give Mom her birthday presents until Dad gets here. He's got them."

Jordan continued to watch the children set up what was obviously a birthday party…and obviously hers. A smile began to play at the corners of her mouth. A house. A family. A husband….so she might _not_ end up alone after all. The children's activities held her attention for moments longer and Peter just let her soak it all in…until a voice called from the back of the house, "Hey kids…I'm home…Got your mom's birthday presents." The kids took off toward the direction of the voice, and then Jordan saw a slightly older, pregnant version of herself begin to descend the stairs. "I'm _pregnant_…" Jordan whispered to Peter, somewhat awed at the prospect. "Me…"

"Well it happens sometimes, you know? Especially when you're married, Jordan."

"And I'm married… "

"So it appears…"

"And this is what could happen to me depending on the choices I make?"

"Yep. Cool, huh?"

"Cool," Jordan began to slide towards the back of the house, easing away from Peter, towards the area where she still heard a man's voice. She was getting so close she could see his shadow….just about to round the corner and discover exactly what "choice" she had made for a husband, when Peter's strong arm came around her and pulled her back.

"No."

"No? I've seen my kids and I can't see my husband?"

"Exactly."

"Why not?"

"Because that is a choice you're going to have to make with your heart and not your head. If you see who you marry, that may cloud what your heart is feeling. So no, you can't go back there. Besides, we need to go one more place before I take you back to your apartment."

"I don't want to leave…can't we stay a little while longer?"

Peter shook his head and took Jordan by the hand. "Hang on…we'll be finished soon."

* * *

This time Jordan found herself at a very familiar environment. It was the Pogue. She had sold it months before, but she would still go over there quite often for a beer. She was back there now…again with an older version of herself…along with Bug, Nigel, Lily, and Garret. They were having a few drinks and playing pool … laughing and having a good time.

Jordan felt right at home. "So why are we here?" she whispered to Peter. "I don't see the need to make a choice here. These people are my friends now. They'll always be my friends."

"Ah…that's true. You've made a good choice here. These are good people and you have chosen to be their friend and be a friend to them. I think it's obvious you continue to do so."

Jordan sighed with relief. At least she would have her friends. But after seeing what could happen with a family…there was a sudden ache in her soul for something she had never coveted before. "But the other two choices…to be alone or have a family…"

"Are up to you," answered Peter. "Just remember…the direction your future takes depends on the choices….the actions you take now. Today." He looked deep in her eyes. "This afternoon…." His voice trailed off.

"Oh my God. Woody. I've got to get to Woody."


	5. Happy Birthday, Jordan

**Chapter Five**

**Happy Birthday, Jordan**

This time Jordan did not find herself deposited back into her apartment. Instead Peter left her outside Woody's apartment building. "You've got to give those ghosts – or whatever they are – credit. They are efficient," she murmured as she opened the door to the building and took the elevator up to his floor. She wasn't sure what she was going to say…she just knew if Woody was getting ready to leave Boston, she had to stop him.

Her future…their future…depended on it.

She figured if she could somehow disengage her brain and let her heart talk for once, that might do the trick. Or at least she couldn't say she didn't try. The elevator was taking forever.

She finally found herself in front of his door. Hesitantly, she knocked. No answer. "Come on, come on…" she said. "Peter wouldn't have made me too late…he just wouldn't have." Then she heard his voice say from the other side.

"I'll give you a call tomorrow morning and set something definite up. Yeah, I'll have to give a two week notice. Okay…no, there's someone at my door….and it's midnight." He mumbled a good-bye and then the door popped open. "Jordan." She watched as his face fell. "I should have known only you wouldn't think that midnight is not an appropriate time for a social call."

"But a booty call?" she joked feebly.

"Stop joking. It's not funny."

She swallowed hard. He wasn't going to make this easy. "Can I come in?"

"Seeing that you're already here and it's late, and I'm still a Boy Scout at heart, yes."

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, she decided the direct approach might be best. "I've been thinking…"

"Nothing good ever happens to me after those three words."

She sighed. She should have expected this. He not only wasn't chasing her any longer, he was pushing her away. But the vision of three chestnut-haired children danced in her head…."Woody….I know you're angry with me. And you have every right to be…I wouldn't blame you if you threw me out of here and never spoke to me again. Never worked with me. Never had anything else to do with me…."

"So now you're going to try to justify your actions to me so that _I'm_ the one that feels guilty?"

"No…no….nothing like that?"

"Then what?"

Taking a deep breath, she began. She was going to skip the ghost part. She had a feeling if she talked about that, he'd have down at the mental health department before you could say Patrick Swayze. "I was wrong."

Woody sat down on his couch, leaving her standing by herself. If he didn't know her better, he's swear he just heard Jordan Cavanaugh admit she was wrong. "Come again?" he asked.

"I was wrong. I've been wrong. I shouldn't have been leading you on like this….letting you think that maybe something could happen between us and then letting you down. That was wrong.

"But I've been scared, Woody. When I told you that I cared for you more than you knew, I was serious. I meant it. I mean it," she corrected herself. "Everyone that I've loved deeply has left me. And I'm afraid that might happen with us. You'd leave. You'd get to know me a little better and figure out how flawed I am and walk off. And my heart couldn't take it…." Her voice trailed off and she looked away, rapidly blinking back the tears.

"You've been scared of me?"

"I'm afraid of what you could do to me…what it would do to me….if you walked off."

"So…why are you admitting this now?"

"Because….I don't want you to leave Boston, Woody."

His jaw dropped. How in the hell did she know?

"I don't want you to leave because I love you. And I'd like to try…really try…to be more than friends. I'm not sure I know how exactly…and I'm not sure it will work…but I do care for you….deeply….

"But if you do decide to leave…and I wouldn't blame you if you did … I wanted you to know how I felt. Life is all about choices, Woody. I learned that tonight. The decisions that you and I make tonight not only affect tomorrow and next month, but the rest of our lives. If you leave Boston, we may never see each other again. Never know what could have been. Never…never….be together," she finished quietly, sitting down on the arm of chair across from where he was at on the couch.

He was silent for a long moment, looking down at the floor, thinking. Then he looked into her eyes that were bright with tears she was desperately trying not to cry. He wasn't sure what had happened to her tonight….but somehow her emotional wall was completely down. She was open and so vulnerable to what he was going to do. Standing, he walked over to where she was still sitting, towering over her. Gently he placed two fingers under her chin and raised her eyes to his. "Okay…." He blew a deep breath out. "This is what we're going to do, Cavanaugh. S-L-O-W. That's how we're going to take this. Not as slowly as it's been going…but we're not rushing things, either. One step at a time." He pulled her to her feet and took her in his arms.

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly.

"I am. Like you said. Life is all about choices…and this is one of the choices I've made. I'll stay in Boston….and I'll love you. And we'll work things out. And now, one more time, Jordan…this is your choice…what do you say?" He dug his hand into his pants pocket and pulled out the ring box and extended it to her.

This time, her fingers curled around the box, opening the lid. It was still just as beautiful. "Would you put it on?" she asked, somewhat shyly.

Gently he slipped the diamond friendship ring on her right hand. Then slowly lowered his lips to hers for a long kiss. When he finally broke it off, and both of their breathing returned to normal, he hugged her close. "How'd you find out about me leaving Boston? I mean, no one knew I was even thinking along those lines."

She smiled against his lips. "A friend of mine had a hunch….and told me I needed to make a choice." She pulled him down for another kiss.

"And you chose to take a chance with me?"

"I think…my future depends on it."

Woody pulled back and gave her a quizzical look. He'd get her to explain later…much later. But right now she was in his arms and his ring was on her finger. "Happy Birthday, Jordan," he murmured in her ear before he kissed her again.


End file.
